Bloodletting

I have some work to do on my technique on shaving my head.  Sometimes, things do not always go as planned.   As you can see.

Of course, the irony is, I was going too fast and being too aggressive, so I could check out of my hotel on-time.  That did not happen.

I did not have a styptic pencil with me and it seems I might have nicked an artery or something.  I bled like this for almost three hours.

I did check out and sat in the lobby, still applying pressure to the wound until the carnage did stop.  Eventually. 

Of course, I think I used every tissue my room in the Marriott had to offer.  I feel bad for the nice housekeeper who had to empty my trash only to see a sea of red paper handkerchiefs.

After that all stopped, I had a few hours to kill before heading to LAX, so I did something I'm not 100% proud of, but thought I'd check out another bloody scene.

I think I have mentioned here once or twice here that in 7th grade (yes, 7th), I read Helter Skelter.  ...and while yes, it's a disturbing book for any aged reader, the ins and outs of law & order were greatly intriguing to me.  Teachers at school took it away from me, and probably rightfully so.

So I took my GPS and rental car and passed by drove to Sharon Tate & Roman Polanski's former residence, where five murders too place back in 1969.  For you to be a little more disturbed, I probably didn't need the GPS.  I knew in general where the street was and it was only 18 minutes from my hotel.

The book had two or three lines on where it was located, and it was fairly descriptive, so it made it that much easier to find.  For me.  I know I'm not like everyone else.

The house itself has been sold, re-sold and re-sold.  Eventually the original house was torn down and a new residence put up in its place.  The houses off Benedict Canyon are huge and gaudy.  Not that you can see the new one from any of the roads.  You couldn't back in 1969 either.

Trent Reznor, from Nine Inch Nails, recorded an album in the old house, obviously before it was demolished and took the front door with him when he left.

The street itself is remarkably dumpy.  It's barely one car wide and with the hills and such, everyone keeps their trash containers at the side of the road.  Everyone thinks Bel Air as being very chic and while the prices may be, it's not all that. Most of the houses do not have gates and are right at the road. I mean right there!

They have changed the actual street address number.  The new tenants have put in a new gate with a lot of signs to stay out - and I get that.  You get freaks who come by that I'm sure are way worse than myself.   Ok, I'm not sure of that, but I tell myself that.

Honestly, I have no idea why I took a picture of the drive.  I could say: to blog, but that's not it.  That book, that story has been with me for so long, I feel like I've been there.  Again, don't get too disturbed at me. 

Total coincidence?  To get to from there to the airport, the GPS had me take surface streets where most of my travel was on Bundy - where Nicole Brown Simpson and her "friend" was murdered.  No worries - I did not look for that house.

I am not a freak.



Song by:  Concrete Blonde